EVE Fiction

The bouncer was so busy frisking the interesting bits that he missed the laser blade, dumbass! I was lead into a small office at the back of the building where I nearly wet myself, sitting right in front of me was the fattest, ugliest Amarrian I had ever seen, not that I had seen many, to be honest I couldn’t tell an Amarrian from a Minmatar space snake. My first thought was ‘do they make pods this big’? He was smeggin huge and he was enjoying my discomfort. He nodded to the chair, so I sat down.

“That will be all Shirley” The bouncer left. You could cut the atmosphere with a laser blade, “you will know me as Jane, nothing more nothing less, just Jane,” “Sure thing, Jane. What can I do for you?”

Standing outside in the middle of the space station and I was covered in sweat, smeg that was something else. Jane was one scary guy, how the smeg was I going to pull this off? The fat Amarrian had left me troubled; if that was a Carebear I didn’t fancy meeting some of the more dangerous characters. The large station sign flashed on and off, Hek it said in large letters, heck right enough.

Apparently I had a hanger in every station, must be the only capsuleer that this applies to as the stations are so small, maybe they work a hot bed system or some third dimensional technology that I hadn’t come across yet. The hanger was huge and filled with several ships; I had been assured by Jane that I would be able to fly them all as my new body had come from the Bazaar and had points to spare, wasn’t sure if that was just a sexist remark though.

Sitting back on the couch with a mug of hot Krusual dark and a copy of the Minmatar Cosmopolitan, I browsed the Alliance & Corporation Recruitment pages for my target. There it was, worded exactly as I had been told it would, all I had to do now was apply.

The recruitment office was down a dingy back lane on the west side of the station, washed out members of Brave lay mingled with drunken Goons, proving that all was not rosy in New Eden. Just before I was about to give it all up I saw the sign ‘Chaotic Change Pilgrims’. The place was just as bad inside with CCP hangers on lounging about, seemingly high on drugs and pontificating about how they were going to revolutionize New Eden. Some things never change!

Another back room, this time more opulent than the last, on the left of the table sat an old guy whose name was ‘Cyclops the seer’ yes you guessed it, he only had one eye. The other guy was more of a mystery, introduced as ‘Three fingers Pete’ but as far as I could see he had all his digits, all twelve of them. I didn’t wait to be told this time and sat down opposite them in the only other chair in the room.

The one eye never blinked and gazed upon me the whole time, it was unnerving to say the least, I nearly jumped out of my skin when ‘Three Fingers’ said “So you want to enlist babe.” I tore my gaze from the eye and looked over at him, I nodded. “We have to run a full background check, you ok with that,” I nodded again. Cyclops blinked, we both turned to look at him as he rose and left the room. “Looks like you passed the first test babe, now its Three Fingers turn”

Minmatar mythology has it that during the early Amarrian wars a Brutor princess was captured and enslaved by a powerful Baron. He refused all overtures from her family for her release. Her father understood rescue was impossible so went to visit Crielere Labs. Legend has it that shortly after; the princess received a beautiful gift of the most exquisite fingerless gloves made from a strange material. Two days later the Baron was found beaten to death. The assault had been so savage it was presumed that a wild beast had entered his quarters whilst he was sleeping. The princess was found hiding in a corner of the room covered in his blood. A week later the princess was returned to her family.

Several pairs of Brutor fighting gloves are said to still exist although very few people have ever seen them and it doesn’t turn out well for those who do. I now knew how that little slimy git had been called ‘Three Fingers’ and he now knew all about the legend that was Brutor fighting gloves. I hope it was a lesson well learned.

They found the battered and bruised body several hours later, Cyclops insisted that no retribution was to be taken, that the lesson was long overdue. No one laughed, especially ‘Fingerless Pete’.
I later found out that Cyclops had his own Brutor skill that was thought to have been lost from Minmatar society since the great enslavement. The ability to see into the soul of any individual that came under the gaze of the one eye. What had he seen in mine?